A Kiss To Make It Better
by Aerilon452
Summary: Helen comes home to find John there waiting for her.


Summary: Helen comes home to find her Sanctuary Quiet and John waiting for her. **A/U**

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sanctuary

Rating: T+

Pairing: Helen and John.

**A KISS TO MAKE IT BETTER:**

Helen came through the front door of her home, her Sanctuary feeling battered and bruised from the latest take down of an aggressive abnormal. It wasn't standard procedure to go out alone, but Will was busy, Henry and the Big Guy had gone to Fiji, and Kate was visiting her brother. Helen was left alone. Well, she wasn't entirely alone, Nikola was about somewhere, but she knew he would never stoop so low as to help her capture an abnormal. She took off her long leather trench coat; hanging it up before she trudged up the stairs towards her office.

Going through the door Helen immediately headed to her desk where she kept a vial of strong pain killers designed especially for her particular DNA; all other pain killers were metabolized in her body too fast to have any effect. It was the curse of the blood. She had accelerated healing, but the pain was a bitch to manage. Helen placed one tablet on her tongue, tipping her head back to swallow. Instantly she took a drink of the bottled water that she had left out. "Good god, I'm tired." She muttered to an empty room. At least she thought it was empty.

"Then perhaps you should sleep." John had been watching her since she walked in. He had arrived three hours ago to find no one about, no one except Nikola and he was muttering and cursing in Serbian while tinkering with a new gadget. It never ceased to amaze John as to how many projects Nikola could juggle at once.

"John?" Helen turned and there he was standing there like a dark angel. He was dressed in tailored pants, Italian shoes, a charcoal grey button shirt, and his habitual leather trench coat. It was all John. "When did you get here?"

He was about to answer, had opened his mouth in fact to form the words, when he saw a thin trickle of blood roll down from her shoulder and over her collar bone. "You're bleeding." He came to her then, crossed the room in long legged strides to get to her. John reached out, touched the tip of his index finger to the blood, and brought his hand back.

Helen looked at John's red tipped finger; her blood, it was her blood. Her left hand went to her right shoulder, slipped under the collar of her shirt and felt the tell tale sting of a wound. When had she gotten hurt? Her own hand came away coated in blood. "I'll have to take care of his later." She said and turned from him. That was when Helen felt john's hands at her waist, fingers grasping the hem of her shirt, and he was lifting it up. All rational thought flew out of her mind and Helen found herself lifting her arms up, letting him remove the shirt.

"Your house is quiet; no one is here to tend you. Let me do this for you." John pulled the shirt up and over her head with no resistance from Helen. There, on her right shoulder, was a bloody section of her skin. He could tell that it wouldn't need stitches, but it would have to be cleaned with water at least. From the inside of his jacket he pulled out a black handkerchief that he kept there out of habit from a society long dead and on her desk he spied a bottle of water. Slowly John lowered the strap of Helen's camisole, moving it off her shoulder so he could clean the wound. John also slid her dark silky strands of hair over her left shoulder before he reached for the water.

Helen didn't know why she was allowing this, but she was. It was John after all and if he had had violence in mind then she would already be fighting him; not letting him clean the wound at her shoulder. Still, she couldn't help wondering why he was acting like this. Why was he taking such care with her? Helen could get used to seeing this John more often. Just then a sigh escaped her as the cold water and the cloth touched the wound at her shoulder. He was gentle in the way he dabbed at the wound. "Does it need stitches?" She asked surprised that she could form the words. John's tender ministrations felt so good.

"No, just a kiss to make it better." John dropped his hand and laid his lips gently to the scraped flesh. He was light and barely touched her wound, but that didn't stop Helen from shivering. Gently over and over he kissed his way around the scrape trying to make her feel as good as possible.

Helen turned her head to watch him out of the corner of her eye. He looked so serene just kissing her shoulder. It was as if the creature had never taken him over. It was as if her lover had never left her. "John…" Helen sighed his name feeling immense warmth fill her chest and swell her heart.

"Sh, sh, sh…" Another kiss. "Let me make it better." John whispered kissing her shoulder again before pulling the strap of her camisole back over her shoulder. Then he turned her to face him. "Now, does it hurt anywhere else?" He asked. Helen pointed to her right cheek. John leaned down and kissed the spot as gently as he kissed her shoulder. "Anywhere else?"

"Right here," Helen held her finger to her left temple. Then she smiled when John's lips touched the spot she had indicated. All this could grow to confuse her; John being gentle. Without being asked Helen pointed to her pulse point, "And here" yet, another gentle kiss that had her blood boiling.

"Where else?" John asked playfully this time. Helen ran her left index finger along the left side of her jaw. John was more than happy to kiss her creamy flesh, even if there was no visible injury. Angling his head John set his lips against her jaw and nibbled with small kisses. Pulling back John looked deeply into Helen's eyes, "Any more sore spots?"

Helen lightly ran her right index finger over her lips, "Right here. They hurt the most." She replied dropping her hand so she could drape her arms over his shoulders, drawing him to her. His lips fell to hers and it was as if they had not shared their last kiss over one hundred years ago. John's tongue darted out tracing the seam of her lips, begging for entrance while his hands tangled in her hair. She gasped giving him entrance into her mouth. John's tongue swept in to dance with hers. Helen dug her fingers into the leather of his jacket just being swept away over the power of his kiss. She was so lost in the feel of his lips that se nearly missed his hands falling to her waist, then to the back of her thighs. John picked her up against him. Immediately she wrapped her legs around his lean waist.

At first John thought to set Helen against the edge of her desk, but it seemed too crude, too common. John took her to the couch. He sat down on the edge keeping his lips to hers. She was his oxygen. It killed him day after day to live without her, but he did it to protect her. And yet, right now with her, he was himself again. He was able to kiss her, to feel her around his physical being. Helen was still firmly rooted in his soul and in his heart. Angling his head John let Helen control the kiss. Her hands fisted in his jacket, pulling it down off of his arms to pool around him on the couch. She urged him back against the cushions; kissing him down onto his back.

Helen took John's hand and pinned them against the armrest of the couch. She pulled her lips away smiling at him. "I could have my way with you," Helen smirked. It brought back that night; the night he proposed._ 'I'll not have you home before midnight John Druitt. Not before I've had my way with you.'_ He had only laughed in pleasure. That had made her heart skip a beat as it did now.

"Then have your way with me, I dare you." John challenged. He wanted to stay with Helen, like this for as long as he could. Freeing his hands he once again set against her waist. He was tempting her; he knew it, and he should know better. But he wanted her lips again. They were his one taste of heaven in his very dark future. John was content with Helen being on top, being in control.

Helen leaned down once again to take his lips, this time she controlled it. Passionately she kissed him, feasting at his mouth. He was like a well prepared meal that she had gone without for too long. Helen had been starving for the taste of John, his addicting flavor. John kept running his hands up and down her sides building the raging fire inside her body. For right now she contented herself with kissing him, devouring him.

**THE END.**


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